


Solid Ground

by derasorea



Category: Free!
Genre: A study in obliviousness, Alternate Universe - Future Fish, Battle of words and bottled words, Canon parallels, Crime, Detectives and undercover work, Explosions and injuries, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Violence, Warnings for drugs, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derasorea/pseuds/derasorea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin, ex-policeman turned private eye, finds himself working with a bombed laboratory's only survivor, a scientist named Rei. For Rin, Rei is strange and spacey. For Rei, Rin is hard-nosed and hard to deal with. And yet, they're very much the same: caught up in their fathers' pasts, trying to use logic to push through the oddness of it all, both curiously liking the warmth of the other's lips when one of their stakeouts forces them to share a kiss. They learn to trust each other after. Soon they'll realize they need each other more than just to solve the case. But everything's hard work – what if the solution to the mystery might just pull their relationship apart?</p><p>Future Fish AU with the whole gang, in which Rin and Rei deal with unfortunate pasts and unsure futures, and [un]expectedly fall for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solid Ground

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Hi! This was supposed to be just something with Rin and Rei running around in suits, tracking aliens smuggled by Nagisa to Earth. I tried to assemble the Future Fish ED scenes into a story, mirroring events from past (High Speed!) and present (Free! seasons 1 and 2) canon timelines. It all led to this. Past Present Future Fish. With a Rinrei focus. And mentions of aliens, at some point.  
> 2\. This is about Rin and Rei overcoming challenges together. They will be happy.  
> 3\. Character POVs: half experiment, half a need to portray immediacy and importance of them living in the present. They're really hard to do cries why did I try this style and I'm sorry
> 
> A lot goes to [Sway](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Hk7x3gc1_Q) by The Perishers.

**CHAPTER 1: SAIL**

**(Rin 1)**

 

“The Guide says there is an art to flying, or rather, a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”

(Douglas Adams, _Life, the Universe and Everything_ )

 

 

 

**AFTER THE EXPLOSION**

When I first see the scientist, I think: _He_ _y, wake up._

Wake up.

Wake the fuck up and stand, get out of there.

I see him pinned face down to the ground by concrete and steel, a long and ragged piece of rebar through his chest. He's surrounded by a team of firefighters. His seared laboratory coat is chalky gray in places and matted with blood, darker where the bar pierces. Only his hair stands out in that sea of gray and red. Dark blue. An easy marker. There are only two people with blue hair in the building, and the other one's already recovered.

Had I been on the other side of the police tape, I would’ve walked over to him. See closer how much the explosion did him in. The visual details would brand my brain better and maybe I'd forget how his laughter sounds. But I don't have a place on that side anymore. I can't go near him. From how he looks right now, I'll never have the chance to.

We're supposed to meet today. He's supposed to give me answers. But he lies there, skewered by a shitty piece of steel bar.

The little hope I've had these past months, taken away just like that.

It hurts like a punch in the gut.

No, it hurts more than that.

I'm not here to see him die.

I tear my eyes away from him and look at the sky instead, cursing it for being privy to pointless deaths, for being fucking blue and uncaring. I'm angry that my eyes are stinging as I stare up. I hate myself most, for thinking about his death that way. Like it's _my_ loss.

The retrieval operation has been going on for six hours. It's now almost five in the afternoon. All around, the dust has yet to settle. Sixty-one new bodies have been found. Some are with incomplete parts. A few are burned beyond recognition. All dead. What used to be the five-story SDR Laboratories lies in a smoking pile of rubble. The street's closed off. The city police are on their posts, deployed from the Explosives and Investigative Support units. Onlookers buzz and point, passersby walk away briskly. Cameras keep flashing. The 3rd Fire District assistant chief, Tachibana Makoto, is still being interviewed, still looking all polite and calm after god knows how many hours of questions. Families stream in, mourning their dead. A portion of the nearby hotel also burns.

I turn around and walk back to my car, parked some thirty meters away.

I don't see or hear the scientist being wheeled away in an ambulance.

 

 

 (Suits and janken pon)

I sit in silence for around a minute when Sousuke follows. Yamazaki Sousuke, my best pal and frequent work partner. He's a giant piece of work who knows me upside down. You'll usually see him lounging and lying on flat surfaces, like an overgrown lazy lizard. Don't buy the wooden, sullen glares. No, really. He's a good kid overall, a chronic overthinker, and a much bigger sap than me. He's not much of a blabber but he's a great listener when you need one. But believe me when I say you wouldn't want to fuck with someone like him. He used to be a nationally-ranked sniper and he's the strongest person I know. He taught me how to fight. He's responsible and reliable. I trust him with my life.

“I thought you're staying,” I tell him as he slides to the passenger's seat.

He leans against the seat, folding his hands behind his head. His serious features have a grimmer look to them than usual. He must be feeling shaken by the bombing, too.

“It's useless staying here,” he says. He sounds almost bored and uncaring, but I know better. “Makoto's down to the last interview but they're doing a press con at 6.”

“What's your next move?”

“The Fire Department at 7. I'm meeting up with them there to plan.”

I nod, understanding. They have to lay the groundwork for the investigation as soon as possible. With everyone desperate to find some sense to this confusion, working on a lead or two first thing tomorrow takes top priority. The SDR management is set on solving this case fast, it seems, to want my agency work with the fire and police departments and supplement the findings. They'll get their results. Despite the apparent lack of conviction, Makoto works fast and thoroughly. He's been like that since our academy days. Always dependable, some kind of a steady support. And Sousuke has the skills and knows procedure, being in similar situations like this when he was on the force.

“Are we meeting with Coach?” I ask.

“No,” Sousuke says. “ _I'm_ meeting with him. SDR is my client. He told me you should go back to HQ after. You have another court presentation to work on, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then go. Eat and get some sleep. You look like you haven't slept in years.”

“I know I look like shit, okay,” I say wearily. It's true the past nights had been restless and busy. “Go rub it in my face more, why don't you?”

Sousuke grins. “He asked why you came to Tokyo.”

“I'm your work partner,” I say pointedly.

“Not for this case. Why did you come, Rin?”

I look away from him. Damn him, he's so perceptive. He knows something's up, I can tell. “I told you, I have some business around here. And I wanted to see the scene for myself. Anything else he said?”

“He asked me about your shirt.”

“What the—” I start, shutting up and scowling when Sousuke shakes with silent laughter.

“He asked for on-site photos,” he explains. “I sent some. You got caught up in one or two.”

I run a hand through my hair, closing my eyes tightly. “He makes the craziest observations sometimes.”

“Oi, it's just one of his jokes,” he says good-naturedly. “Tell me, bud. Why are you really here? And why're you wearing that?” He eyes my pressed slacks, long-sleeved red shirt, and black jacket with confusion. He must know they're all newly-bought. I've never worn the stuff before. I'm a stark contrast to how casual he looks: he's wearing a hoodie and jeans, and a gray beanie is on his head.

Sousuke can't know I dressed up in fancy shit for the scientist.

“The PSIR at Nagoya, what else?” I say. “I had to wear a suit in court. You know the drill.”

“I know, but you always wear the same one for work. That"—he pulls at a sleeve—“is new.”

“It's a gift from Gou.”

His hand travels upward, to the back of my shirt collar, and he tugs again, this time on the label. He sees the brand and smiles knowingly. “And expensive.”

“Try not buying anything in three years, you'll afford one."

"Three years?" His voice drips with amusement. “So, _you_ bought it. It's not from Gou.”

"We're talking about clothes."

"Yeah."

"Why the hell are we talking about _clothes_?"

“Only because it's rare for you to spend so much on something formal like that. You say you hate suits.”

See, this is the thing about having someone like Sousuke for a friend. He's annoyingly rational. He knows me too well. A heads-up: don't buy his jokes about me, either. We like riling each other up.

“Someone in court caught your fancy?” he teases.

He winces when I elbow him in the ribs.

He moves away as far as he can from me, but he's laughing. “Long shot, but I was just thinking that maybe there's finally someone you want to impress. You don't date even with all the fate and true love crap you fill your head with.”

Long shot, he says. The image of the scientist sprawled on the ground threatens my resolve not to scream “You've fucking hit the bull's eye” in his face.

Sousuke is talking to ease the tension of everything we just saw, I know. A minute of silence is enough to bring the terrible scenes back, the smell of burned bodies, the fear about the unknown—about the culprits and their motives in blowing up a building full of people, whether the hotel or school nearby has another bomb right now about to go any minute. Normally I'd be the one doing that. The talking. I'm the one who doesn't shut up till Sousuke gives up on me or lets me have my way. I'm fairly good with conversation, talking's a competition I almost always win. But right now my competitive streak is dead. I honestly don't know what to do. Maybe wake up, if this day is just one of the usual crazy dreams. Other than that, I got nothing. The loss is crippling. It's hard to even think.

I just sigh as I mumble, “Sousuke, I'm twenty-four."

Not too old, but tired enough. 

“Exactly,” Sousuke says.

Right. What a brilliant reply, Matsuoka. Genius. Now your best friend has more ammunition. I try to hide my grimace.

"Twenty-four years too old for this stupid shit."

“Twenty-four and still a believer," he counters. "You're pretty screwed.”

Sousuke often teases me for being, in his words, a romantic loser. It's not like he's any better. He's also one, though barely with a touch of romance. Says he doesn't understand the word. He's never had anyone longer than half a year. We both tank at relationships. Maybe that's another reason why we're friends.

I smirk a little, competitiveness stirring a bit. “At least I'm not a piece of wood that mostly communicates in grunts and janken pon,” I tell him. “You're almost twenty-four yourself, and you base your relationship decisions on janken pon, who's screwed now? You're a goddamn weirdo.”

He puts an arm on my shoulder, like he's reassuring me.  “Nah, the last break-up wasn't because of janken pon. But you just confirmed two things then,” he says solemnly. “You think your best pal is some grunting wooden asshole, and you're _still_ a romantic.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Shut up now before I haul your sorry ass out,” I snap as Sousuke lets go and flashes a winning smile.

“You still haven't explained why you're weari– Hey, you know him?” he asks suddenly as one of the Fire Department's larger red-and-white ambulances speeds by us, his gaze following the vehicle. I do the same. With just that, the atmosphere seems to turn somber and heavier between us, all jokes gone. I suddenly feel crazed enough to laugh – who talks about suits and janken pon just after witnessing a bombing scene?

Idiots, that's who. We're idiots.

What a way to cope.

“Who?”

“The last one they found before you left,” Sousuke says. There's a trace of concern in his voice. “The chemist. You were looking at him earlier. He's in there with one more.”

The urge to scream comes again, this time accompanied by a tingling feeling in my fists. He's dead. What does it matter if I know him or not?

“Not really,” I say, my grip on the steering wheel tight.

But I do.

I know the scientist. Or is it _knew_ now? I'm supposed to meet him at a restaurant today, at 8 pm. I specifically chose these clothes to appeal to him better, to make him open up to me, to tell me things I need to hear. I even know the way he laughs.

His name is Ryugazaki Rei. I know him, definitely. Well enough.

 

 

**BEFORE THE EXPLOSION**

 

(The past)

Twenty years ago, my father left with a smile and a story.

I remember only pieces of that day, though some things stand out better. Like how we had grilled yellowfin for lunch and how Dad looked when he acted out the story. I remember those things clearly, because that day was the day he left, and the last time I liked the taste of fish.

I was four then, three days away from my fifth birthday.

Popo's a fish that liked swimming with his friends. I was full and sleepy, grumbling how silly he was for getting lost in the sea. I had asked Dad in disbelief: what fish gets trapped in a sea of squid ink together with a swordfish, a sea turtle, and a drunk seahorse? I told him I liked his stories about _The Red Knight_ better. He just smiled, and gave my head that messy ruffling he always seemed to enjoy doing. He said I'd get Popo's story someday. Something about finding a reason worth living for other than myself. I didn't understand it then. I said I didn't like the story at all.

He left after Mom finished washing the dishes. He kissed my sister Gou first, who was already napping. Then me. I told him it's embarrassing – I was a boy, and growing, so he should stop kissing me soon even if it was just on the forehead because other people could see, although I kind of liked it when he did. He laughed and Mom joined in as well. They said that they agreed with me, said something about time flying by fast. Mom said that I'd be in school soon. Dad said he had to catch a lot of fish for me. They hugged me and were silent for a while. Then Dad kissed Mom goodbye and wrapped his arms around her, his head buried in her hair.

I remember the feeling of seeing them hug. I liked it very much.

I miss seeing them hug.

He then took his hat and slung a worn knapsack on his shoulder. It was the only bag he owned. I tried to follow him. I asked him where he was going. He said I should stay back and look after Mom and Gou. He told me he had something to do. I stopped running toward him, but I yelled with my hands on the sides of my mouth.

“Is it about your boat, Dad?”

And in a slightly lower voice so Mom wouldn't hear: “Are we making a surprise poem for Mom again?”

He just smiled and waved at me as he turned the curve, off to the train station that'd take him to the city.

I was lying. I liked the Red Knight better as a kid, sure, but I also liked stupid Popo and his adventures. I liked Dad's warm voice, his eyes weathered by the sun and the sea, the way his face lit up whenever he looked at Mom. I should've told him I liked that last Popo story at least. I never had the chance to tell him these things. Because twenty years ago, on that very afternoon, he left. A smile and a story were all he left me. He never came back.

 

 

(The PI)

People in general are a restless, fickle bunch. I'm no exception. I was thirteen when I figured I had a choice. I could stay in Sano, maybe be a fisherman like Dad, and wait for him to return. Or I could leave and try to find him, or what remained of him, myself. I chose to do the second. I promised Mom I'd finish high school, and then I'd find the truth about Dad. She didn't initially agree with my decision. She wanted me to go to college and to stop, according to her, living in the past.

“Wherever he is right now, your father won't be happy with you throwing your future away for him,” was what she said angrily.

But how could I do that, I wanted to ask her. How could I stop dealing with the past when her smiles were never the same after Dad disappeared?

Now I've spent almost a quarter of my life piecing things together. I want her to smile her old smiles again. The ones that tell she's genuinely happy, not barely put together to look strong for me and Gou.

I joined the police force at nineteen. I did a year of patrol work where I got partnered with Sousuke, then got moved to the Criminal Investigation Bureau. I worked under the first division, tackling homicides and unregistered weapons. I was 21 when I first led a team. There were four of us. Our cases were usually small but that was understandable, better for us even. We were starter small fries after all. My teammates nicknamed me “The Storm Shark”, whatever the hell that meant. They were great, hardworking people. The pay was decent enough that I could help Mom with Gou's studies, buy a cheap car in installments, and get my own apartment.

Police work was easy. Mechanical. It's the deaths I saw that's hard, and the helplessness that gnawed at me for being unable to prevent them. It's hard to forget the faces of people I saw killed.

Dad's face on the other hand, is really hard to remember.

Aside from that one day in my childhood that keeps haunting me all vivid and intact, I have a hard time remembering him. I always try but there are no photos, no other memories to help.

One day, the first division suddenly wasn't enough. An anonymous person sent me a letter, saying my father didn't disappear, at least not willingly.

He was killed, the computerized words said. I'd find what I need in the third division. A drug called Sail was involved.

I was 22 at the time. Dad's disappearance had been a cold case since I made a promise to know the truth when I was 13.

So, what did I do?

I blindingly followed. I couldn't resist when I got thrown a bone like that. Maybe yeah, I was damn desperate.

I worked hard to get moved to the third division, which specialized in controlled substances and organized crime. The transfer wouldn't happen until six months later.

When it did, I immediately got tossed out. I didn't even last a month before getting nearly killed in one undercover operation we called the Saturday Raid. It would say a lot about my short stint there when the best part I could think of was getting hospitalized.

But I had a new lead about Dad, something about a man named Ryugazaki Ryuichiro.

Ryugazaki. Ryuichiro.

_Ryugazaki._

I would say the name under my breath, in my sleep, so many times it was almost like a prayer.

Two months after my confinement, I decided to quit the force. For two reasons. First, I couldn't die yet. I had a promise to myself, to my mother and sister, to my father wherever he was – I was going to find out the truth. Second, there were things you couldn't do with a police badge and a name like “The Storm Shark".

I joined a private detective agency shortly after.

So, to properly introduce myself: name's Matsuoka Rin, ex-detective from the National Police Agency's CIB, now a private investigator from Sasabe Investigations.

 

 

(Sasabe Investigations)

I now work under the auspices of a certain Sasabe Goro, a former Maritime officer turned PI. Been here at SI for a year now. Our "headquarters", as Sousuke calls it, is a renovated two-story building off the coast of Iwatobi. Just look for _Iwatobi Swim Club 'Returns'_. Door's the one with the orange logo and “SI” on it.

Right. A swim club. Sasabe's not just an ex-military man and a PI, he's also a swim club and pizza place owner, coaching kids to swim when time indulges him. The man's hardworking and varied for sure. I won't be surprised if he admits he owns a watermelon farm or some other random shit.

I don't know exactly why Sasabe chose this sleepy, quiet little town for his agency.

When we're not on stakeouts and chasing perps, you'll find us doing paperwork and downing coffee on the second floor of ISCR. It's rare that everyone gets together owing to our own sets of cases, but on good times, our little gang would be complete.

There's Sasabe, who everyone calls simply “Coach”. He single-handedly set up both SI and ISCR ten years ago. He used to be a lieutenant in the Maritime Self-Defense Force. Hard to tell really because you'll usually see him all genial and wearing bright Hawaiian shirts. If you ask me, the bumbling is only half of what he lets us see, and that all these business ventures is for him to widen his networks and resources for PI work. There are telltale signs, like the kids at ISCR. Most like him, but find his training "demon-like" and "militaristic" sometimes. Then the way he keeps insisting to be only called "Coach". It's like a conscious effort to be level with everyone, something to give himself an image of being accessible. But I could be wrong. Maybe he's just really a very open and helpful person. He accepted me after all. Position: agency founder and senior investigator. Strengths: years of combat experience, networks, physical surveillance, undercover operations. He usually tackles domestic investigations. Weaknesses: stars and women in swimsuits.

Amakata Miho, a former business professor in Gou's university. Position: senior investigator and operations manager. Strengths: due diligence, extensive knowledge of the financial world. Corporate investigations are usually given to her, and all our reports have to pass by her first. Together with Gou she does all admin work. They're the reason why this place is even functioning. Weaknesses: swimsuits, sunlight, postmodern literature.

Me, trailing after drugs and murder. Position: junior investigator. My cases are mostly criminal ones. Strengths: my police experience would count. CIB connections. Close-range combat. Theory and tactics. Knowledge of the dirtiest, most corrupt back alleys in Japan. An interest in teamwork, maybe – unified goals and a common interest to succeed are important to me. I can do just as well independently. Weaknesses: Many, I suppose. But nope. Not telling you.

Gou, my sister. She majored in human physiology for undergrad and is now in her first year at med school. Back when I was still at CIB, she asked Amakata-san to refer her here as a part-time worker despite my protests (“Work is work, onii-chan! Let me help you with my tuition at least!”) When I quit the force, she and Sousuke suggested that I work here. Position: secretary (part-time). Strengths: extreme organization, administrative support, knowledge of medicine. Weaknesses: not athletic (which I deal with just fine), people's muscles (something I'd just learned to deal with over the years.)

Sousuke, who quit the force and joined SI a year before I did because of a combat accident. Position: junior investigator. Strengths: long-range combat, tactics, undercover operations, protective services. He's willing to sacrifice his own emotions and well-being when a case requires it. Kisumi (and eventually all of us) calls him Woodsuke because of that. It's a joke of course, Sousuke's a good friend of ours. Weaknesses: cola, hoodies, dancing. Never let him dance, unless you want to be driven to hysterics and have stomach pain. Nagisa got him drunk once, and he spun around HQ with the same uninterested expression on his face.

Shigino Kisumi, who specializes in analytics and criminal law-related matters. He's the newest in the team, he got here just last spring after getting his law undergrad. He says he plans to continue law school after one year. You gotta hand it to him, he's extremely friendly and charismatic. He's a bit of a nosy airhead though. He's talented at talking and manipulation. Sometimes you won't know if he's purposefully playing games with you. Position: junior investigator, intel analyst. Strengths: analytics, interpersonal skills, knowledge of the law, manipulation, popularity. Weaknesses: “broad shoulders”, or so he said. I'm pretty sure he's just messing with me. He seems to avoid closed spaces and shellfish.

Hazuki Nagisa, who's literally and figuratively _up in space_. He's an astronaut in training, moonlighting as our GPS tracking and satellite expert. He's the team's ray of sunshine, but oftentimes he overwhelms people. Strengths: interpersonal skills, boldness, intelligence-gathering, manipulation. Weaknesses: sugar. I snatched his cream breads away once, told him to eat proper food. I was just worried, you know? I'm rather fond of the kid but his sugar binges piss me off. He's practically diabetes with legs. His training has him in a controlled diet, but that's no excuse for eating everything sweet on sight when he's back home.

The last guy is probably Nanase Haruka. Haru's technically not an SI employee, but he's been instrumental in keeping us alive. We barely have time to eat normal meals at HQ. Since discovering that our building's a few blocks away from the newly-opened Iwatobi branch of Signorelli's, an Italian-Japanese fusion restaurant where Haru is a chef, we now get by. I first spotted him swimming in the ISCR pool when I was about to go home. I was fascinated, to be honest. Guy had some serious swimming skill. There was something in his swimming, like a bright light that catches your attention and draws you in. It calmed me and fired me up at the same time. I raced him a few times when time allowed, talked some, then discovered he cooked. That started it. Now Coach has client meetings in his resto, and every day we have at least one meal delivered or eaten there. Position: food bank. Strengths: cooking, swimming, drawing, perceptiveness. Weaknesses: water and mackerel.

 

 

(Secrets)

With our current team, keeping secrets would be stupid and frankly, dangerous. Information's our trade, after all. It's either Nagisa or Kisumi who finds out first just by sheer talent alone, or Sousuke next, through his intuition. And Coach – well, nothing escapes Sasabe.

Not keeping any would be impossible, though.

My best-kept secrets? A drug and a family.

I have a black folder containing my investigation files on the Sail drug, accumulated from combined snooping around on my own and official police files. A quick read and you'd know things like: Twenty years ago, the drug plied under the name _Sailor's Stone_. A Sail tablet is roughly the size of an average adult's thumbnail, bright aqua blue and shaped like a fish scale. One tab to hook you, slowly filling you with the sensation of floating blissfully on some damned sea or breathing underwater. Distribution was Japan-exclusive, strongest in Tokyo eight years ago and stopped mysteriously in 2010. Core groups in the trade included the Mikoshiba Group and the Gray Duck Syndicate.

One puzzle piece stands out, a name carefully written in an otherwise initially nameless bundle. Ryugazaki Ryuichiro. That one memento I had from the third division. A quick initial search on the Internet gave me information that I jotted down next to his name. Former founder and president of SDR Laboratories, cited by the media as a “pioneering contributor to modern biopharmaceutical sciences.” Stepped down last year due to bone cancer. Has a wife named Rumi, who is a surgeon. Has two sons. The elder one is named Renjiro, currently a visiting neurochemistry professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology  and recipient of an award from the Japan Institute of Invention and Innovation last year. He's expected to take over SDR in two years. The younger one is named Rei, analytical chemistry graduate of Kyoto University, currently working on his master's degree, and is in his first year as a researcher at SDR.

Also included in the folder is a photo of the Ryugazaki family. I downloaded it from the SDR website. It's the accompanying image to a linked article about generations of innovators and their families.

Fucking family of nerds. I'm equally amazed and troubled.

 

 

(The scientist)

I've given the youngest Ryugazaki the longest look. He's just a year younger than me. Rei. The name kind of fits his pensive face. He doesn't look half bad. He's tall, about my height if my estimates are correct. He has purple eyes beneath a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. He has short, dark blue hair that's slightly parted in the middle. Bits of it are sticking up near the back. He's smiling but his expression is calm, not smug like his brother's.

Solely judging by the photo, _serious_ will come to mind. A person who's direct, practical, logical. Seems to be the type of person who's inclined better to internal thoughts than external expressions. I have written notes beside his name:

 

  * _Junior and senior high school track athlete (ref: Nada High paper, see clipping_ _1_ _p.6)._
  * _Intern at Kyoto University's Institute for Chemical Research._
  * _Won a university award for research on mass spectrometry._
  * _Starting analyst_   _(ref: SDR work profile)._
  * _One of youngest researchers admitted to_ _SDR's_ _White Lily team (article, see clipping 2, p.6)._
  * _Most definitely reads a lot._
  * _Math. Science. The works._
  * _N_ _o_ _other_ _pertinent data as of 11/03._
  * _Probables:_ _L_ _inty sweaters._ _Formal clothing. Classics_ _._ _C_ _lassical music?_
  * _Tea person. Or coffee? Both could work._
  * _Ha_ _s_ _no life outside of the lab._ _Does this person even have hobbies_ (item scratched by Rin). _  
_
  * _Find out hobbies._
  * _Seems to me to be the silent, brooding type._
  * _Check why K_ _yodai_ _; brother was a Todai grad._ _Just_ _for reasons other than academic, if there are._
  * _Check why Chem._
  * _Virgin_ (scratched rather furiously).
  * _Never had sex._ _Never had a girlfriend._ _Never been kissed._
  * _I had to._ _Info's a trade,_ _my hunches_ _matter_ (scratched) _._
  * _Wondering if he still runs._
  * _Request contact details_ (strike-through'd, replaced with _Work e-mail's ryugazakirei@sdrl.co.jp._ There's also a fax number and two phone numbers included _._ )
  * _Do BG check at KU asa_ _p._
  * _I've had worse notes_ (scratched) _._
  * _Of s_ _even_ _photographs on the Internet: 2 in lab coat_ _(_ _pics_ _A and B, p.7)_ _, 1 in_ _pixelated_ _track uniform_ _(C7)_ _,_ _2_ _in shirts with some kind of butterfly icon_ _(D_ _E_ _7)_ _, 1 in a_ _pair of_ _purple-black striped_ _jumpers_ _(F7)_ _, 1 with no glasses_ _(G7)_ _._
  * _Looks better with no glasses_ (scratched).



 

 

Seriously, I think this Rei is a boring hard-ass.

I want to meet him so badly.

The guesses are necessary. Unlike his older brother, whose name searches yield piles and piles of information—the guy's pretty popular and has some sort of following; people care that he likes his mangoes cubed, what the fuck—Rei's all _younger Ryugazaki son and S_ _DR researcher from Kyoto U_ _niversity_. Nothing else. I can't work with just that.

Not when after years and years of blind groping and occasional hits with Dad's case, I now have a good plan.

 

 

(The plan)

Actually, it's something I first cooked on the night before my first day at SI. It got put on the back burner temporarily because I had my first case on my second month, which was incidentally SI's biggest yet: the Takegawa Scandal. The case was a very publicized and complicated affair between an actress and her lover who were said to be murdered by the actress' husband. After my agency's involvement with the police, with the investigation on our side led by Sasabe and me, it would turn out that the actress' son orchestrated the whole thing, as the son had an affair with his mother's lover. The whole ordeal would take us ten months to solve. It's not a matter of the kid being sly—he's a bag of loose sand, in my opinion—but of the father taking the blame, hiding, and refusing to cooperate once found. The media naturally got in a frenzy over the developments. Tedious paperwork and court appearances followed all our stakeouts. I had to testify and meet with lawyers constantly. I had to put in all my efforts to debunking the case if I want answers, and Sasabe to think he made the right decision employing me.

The plan is very simple: get to know this Ryugazaki Rei and make him talk.

He's the only one in his family who's in Japan right now. The mother is training doctors in Sri Lanka. Both the father and older brother are in the US for chemotherapy and university fellowship. He's the best and only shot I got.

It's not like I already pinned Ryugazaki Ryuichiro as the one responsible for Dad's disappearance. On the contrary, being led to him just confused me more. I can't see any connection. My father was a humble fisherman who never went to college and almost never left Sano. It's nearly impossible that he was in Rei's father's social circles. Dad had dreams, like being an Olympic swimmer and naming a ship after Mom. But these dreams, while beautiful to me, were in no way similar or groundbreaking as that of Rei's father, who revolutionized medicine with the dream of “making the world better”. The two men grew up in different towns with very different social backgrounds and different lives.

I'm not even confident of the connection between Rei's father and the Sail drug. That's where the leads from my days at the police point at. Experience tells me not to be too hot about scraps of paper sent anonymously, though. There are always idiots who find people's fear and confusion over mystery letters as some kind of a cruel, funny joke. My connections at the CIB meant equivalent trade: telling people about my interest in the Sail case in exchange for possible information about Dad. Who knows if one of those connections was a fucker who decided to muddle my brain.

Ryugazaki Ryuichiro is one of the country's leading and most respected scientists, and he's making millions of yen from SDR alone. He doesn't need cheap tricks to be rich. He has sufficient reason to not want his reputation stained. I checked, he's also had no brush with the law even for corporate reasons. His life revolves around manufacturing drugs. That doesn't necessarily mean he's making illegal ones on the side.

There are roads to take. I can believe that my father left us and drugged himself to death, accidentally or not, with or without Ryuichiro's influence. I can believe that Dad was unwilling to go, that he was forced to take part in the trade, and got himself killed for it. Or I can stop searching for answers, toss the leads as nothing but someone's idea of a good prank, and just live my life in the present. Maybe Dad got abducted by organ trade people. Or by aliens. Who knows. Maybe he never left and all that I recall of him is just made-up, all in my imagination.

I'm going crazy.

That's why I need Rei.

If there's one thing I learned about detective work, it's that answers are right _there_. You just have to look long and hard, everywhere, with a bit of luck and loads of common sense. Or, some sense and insane amounts of luck. Mostly the former, for me. That's how you ease the confusion and piece things together.

If Dad and Ryugazaki Ryuichiro did connect in some way, and how, and why, is what I intend to find out.

Rei is my key.

 

 

(Step one)

“Onii-chan, what's this?”

“A hair tie. You still can't find your blue one, right?”

Gou stares at the beaded scrunchie that I dropped next to her textbook. It's the weekend and we're all at home. She makes a delighted squeal, leaps, and hugs me tightly. “Thank you!”

“You're squeezing too tight,” I say even as I hug her back, patting her lightly on the head with one hand. “Tie your hair, you won't be able to concentrate with your review when it's all over the place.” I bought the scrunchie for her because she seems so down lately, ever since her old blue fish hair tie, which was a gift from Dad, got lost. It's been three days since she last put her hair up.

She dangles the scrunchie in front of me, beaming. “I'll wear it if you tie my hair, onii-chan. Please? Like old times!”

“What the heck. Tie it on your own. You're nearly 23.”

“Eh, onii-chan. Remember when you were in the hospital last year? I kept tying your hair back, too! Mom wanted to cut your hair but I supported you. I would guard your bed when you're asleep so she wouldn't sneak in with the scissors–” Mom's chuckle from the kitchen echoes into the room and Gou laughs hard as well. She looks at me expectantly. “Just this once!”

I snort. “You're such a kid sometimes, you know that? C'mere,” I say as I grab a comb and work her hair into the tie. It's a nice feeling, doing this thing. Like old times, huh. I think I was twelve when I last combed her hair.

“I still haven't given up on it,” Gou murmurs. “I know I left it in the library, I've put up notices. Maybe when I come back somebody has found it for me. I don't want to go home next Saturday without the tie to show Mom.”

I can't find the courage to say _it's_ _just an old hair tie, let it g_ _o_. It's her only gift from Dad after all, the one physical reminder she has of him. And it's not like her to be forgetful of her things. Med school and SI must've been taking a toll on her. But she can be quite hard-headed, and we'd just argue again if I tell her to quit working. People in this family are damn stubborn. So I say instead: “Double good luck on Monday, then? For the hair tie and your exams.”

“Thanks, onii-chan. Histology is okay, but biochem's killing me.” She plops down on the table, hair now tied messily, and flips through her textbook again.

Suddenly I have an idea.

“I'm driving you back to Osaka Monday morning at 6, right?”

“Yes. Why?”

Since I'm making a trip to Kansai, might as well drop by Kyoto University. To its chemistry department, specifically. I decide it's the first step on my plan. I'm going to pick up a thing or two about Rei there.

“Nothing,” I tell her. “Just making sure so I don't forget.” I walk away from her to help Mom in the kitchen. We're having meat and soup for lunch.

 

 

(Step one in motion)

“Ryugazaki Rei? May I ask why you're asking?”

“Yeah. I, ah— I'm very interested in his research on spectrometry. Weren't you a part of his research team at the ICR?”

“Oh! No I'm not, sorry. I did my internship at Kaji Lab. You got the wrong Elric. You must mean my brother, people confuse us a lot since we're both studying chemistry. But it's okay, I know him! Ryugazaki-senpai is an amazing mentor and friend. He's brilliant, though a little eccentric I guess. Have you read his winning paper on affinity capture of DNA-binding proteins? It's really good.”

This informant is a nice dude. Kinda chatty. I think he seriously believes I'm an undergrad like him. Good, because it was a pain in the ass to make my fake ID and these eyeglasses I'm using for disguise is making my head ache. But paper on _what_?

Shit, I'm gonna blow my cover.

“Ah, yes I have. I also read his thesis, it was very... interesting.”

“I know! He's very much into anal, it's amazing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anal. Analytical chemistry.”

Ah.

“Right. Of course. Thanks.”

 

 

(Step two)

After prying in Kyoto University, I become extremely busy. It's June when things at SI slow down and the Takegawa case gets closed for good. With Kisumi as a new addition to the team, cases get rotated better. I finally have time and enough sleep to deal with Rei. Time for step two!

On June 8, I send him my first e-mail.   

 

> _To: Ryugazaki Rei <ryugazakirei@sdrl.co.jp>_
> 
> _From: Matsuoka Rin <matsuokarin@sasabeinvestigations.com>_
> 
> _Subject: An_ _inquiry on_ _your research on_ _mass spectrometry_
> 
> _Attachment_ _s:_ _MatsuokaCV.pdf; Takegawa_ _2013__ _2014.zip_
> 
>  
> 
> _Mr. Ryugazaki,_
> 
> _My name is Matsuoka Rin, a private investigator from Sasabe Investigations. This writing is in light of the recent closure of the Takegawa case, in which I had been a lead investigator. The crime laboratory identified the primary evidence found (Takegawa Shirai's blood) using laser ablation techniques. It was the ultimate step to finding the solution to the whole case. I find the technology invaluable, and would like to know more given the nature of the cases I work on. Recently I read your 2014 paper on affinity capture of DNA-binding proteins for mass spectrometric identification, as well as your 2013 paper on mass spectrometry applications for medicine and forensics. Greatly insightful work.  
>  _
> 
> _I'm aware that your greater focus is molecular spectrometry for drug discovery and development. But if possible, I would like to discuss your research and its real-life forensic applications. There are some questions I hope you can shed light on._
> 
> _Please see attached files for more information. Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you._
> 
>  
> 
> _Matsuoka Rin_
> 
> _Junior Investigator, Sasabe Investigations_
> 
> _Iwatobi, Tottori, Japan_

 

Writing this e-mail is pure torture. Look at all that formal shit. Look at all the lies. It's true laser ablation was used in the investigation and that it interested me. Very faintly, though; not enough at all to go e-mailing scientists. And while I look forward to meeting Rei – if he takes the bait and doesn't dismiss my e-mail as some crazy bullshit – I'm not that excited about the actual spectrometry-related discussion. I'm handy with numbers. Chemistry bores me to tears.

But based on my hunches, this Rei person would more likely entertain me if I present an interest in his research, however fake. I don't know any of his hobbies, places he frequents, books he reads, music he likes. If I intend to get closer to him, I need an anchor point. This anchor point is part of the logical steps I set for myself, which I did to feel better about doing this whole thing. I'm basically intruding on his life, like a stalker. Only I have what I think is a justifiable reason to do so. A more organized, subtle method. I'm not doing this to get in his pants or something. In fact, I barely care about him, it's information about his father I want.

So I opt with spectrometry, something he's very familiar with. Something formal and impersonal enough that he hopefully won't suspect anything. It's a stroke of luck that I could find a link between my work and his. The whole thing will be one slow burn, but it has better guarantees I think. It's a trust thing. I have to make him comfortable. It's better than I dunno, inviting him out and casually asking him if his dad's a murderer or a drug lord.

 

He replies an hour later. There are four attachments (a photo and 3 pdf files) and an unbelievably long, scholarly gushing about how happy he is that his research piqued my interest. What a nerd. The photo and pdfs are all spectrometry-related. Two focus on laser ablation ICP-MS, the meaning and purpose something I don't really care about right now. He tells me that he'd be happy to assist me in whatever way he can, but he's easy about it, saying he still has a lot to learn about his field and is currently pursuing his master's. There's one part in his e-mail that strikes me the most. 

 

> _Since correspondence via e-mail may not suffice, would you be willing to schedule an appointment for discussion? I'm available Fridays from 6 PM onwards and Sundays from 12 PM onwards. You may contact_ _me_ _to set a place and time_ _. I am grateful for your interest in my work, Mr. Matsuoka._
> 
>  
> 
> _Yours, Ryugazaki Rei_
> 
> _Analyst_ _I_ , _SDR Laboratories_
> 
> _Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan_

 

Unbelievable. The nerd is now in my grasp.

Man, that was easy.

It took me one e-mail for him to want to meet up, and he even gave me his phone number. Granted, I already have his number ever since I had the idea to look up his academic research. Researchers always provide contact details in their published papers. But I couldn't contact him then, when I didn't have a solid reason yet.

I never expected he'd be this enthusiastic.

Ryugazaki, you seem to be passionate and clueless as fuck.

 

 

I look at my desktop. June 8, 8:30 PM. Will it be all right to call now? My fingers move on their own and dial his number on my phone. He picks up on the third ring.

It's like today's my birthday.

“Hello? Good evening. This is Ryugazaki Rei speaking."

His voice surprises me. I imagined a croaky voice or a dull monotone, something that'd hint of long days cooped up in a laboratory. It's neither. He has a pleasant, full voice.

I can feel my hands shaking. I'm finally talking to him, my key. The key to Dad's disappearance. Talking. To. Me. Holy shit. I try to calm down. “I'm Matsuoka Rin of Sasabe Investigations. I sent you an e-mail earlier today.”

His voice picks up a cheerful note, though he speaks very formally. “Matsuoka-san! I'm pleased to hear from you. How do you find the case studies and bibliography I sent?” And after a slight pause, “Will you be scheduling an appointment?”

I frown at the “Matsuoka-san”. It's very rare that I get called that. I bite down the urge to tell him to just call me Rin, though. I'm still on my formal mode. We're not close. Yet. “Yes. Can we meet on June 13, at Signorelli's in Tokyo?”

“Would 8 PM be all right?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yes. Yes it'll be all right.”

“Very well. I'll be there to see you at 8.”

“Thank you—” I struggle with my honorifics. “Ryugazaki-san. For considering my request.” For walking into the pit willingly, more like.

He laughs. It's strange. It's a very loud and hearty sound, slightly prolonged and I'm tempted to say exaggerated, but I don't know yet if he laughs any other way. It's something I never associated with his photo or considered in my notes.

It's his laughter that makes the guilt rush in.

He sounds proud and happy, though. That's something good, I guess. He seems so sincere in helping me out in my “quest for knowledge”.

"It's my pleasure, Matsuoka-san,” he says happily. “Our theories, our scientific endeavors, are only truly validated when they have been shared to other people. We don't do it for ourselves. For me, the real beauty of my research is when it helps the world or another person's life be better, even in simple ways. I'm really glad I can be of help to you. See you on June 13.”

“See you,” I say, guilt building up again. I've never heard someone else spout cheesy lines like he did and sound so sincere about it. He's really damn clueless. Also seems a pretty decent person. I'm using him unfairly.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

I sleep with a huge grin on my face. The universe is finally being a good pal.

 

 

(The news)

I end up fussing over what to wear. The goal is to appear smart and respectable, to be someone an upper-class scholar like him will find comfortable to be around. I decide that my three-year old suit, the one I first bought back when I was at CIB and now occasionally use for more formal situations in SI, say a court presentation, will not be enough. I can't meet him wearing my work clothes either, which usually consist of a hoodie, plain jeans, and shirt. Signorelli's Tokyo is a sophisticated place, unlike its other more laid-back branches. I can't stroll in there in a tank top and sneakers when most of the patrons are professionals and businessmen. More importantly, I need something formal to wear on June 13 because I'm going to Nagoya for a pre-sentencing investigation report. This is why I scheduled my meeting with Rei on that day. It's hitting a bird with two stones.

On June 9, I reserve a table for two at Signorelli's.

On June 10, after work, I shop for a suit and a new long-sleeved shirt. I get a hair trim. I've always worn my hair slightly long, but I figure a trim is due this month. Gou says it's to get rid of split ends or something.

On June 11, I stare at my laptop like an idiot, wondering if I should send Rei some sort of question, just to have him reply. We haven't contacted each other since the June 8 call. What if he forgets the meeting?

On June 12, I'm positively spilling with anxiety. Sousuke and Kisumi notice, and I'm the day's butt monkey. I reread some of my notes, search for more spectrometry stuff, practice my questions and the way I'll speak. I've never been this nervous since I acted as an eggplant for a school play when I was 9, dammit.

On June 13, I'm walking out of the courtroom when Sousuke calls. A building in Tokyo was bombed, he says. He's requested to go asap. No survivors recovered yet.

I ask him what the building's name is.

“SDR Laboratories,” he tells me. “The one next to Sharkstone Suites.”

 

I don't drop my phone in shock, but I almost fall down a flight of stairs.

I tell Sousuke to wait. I'll go to Tokyo, I say, since I'm finished with work today. I'm going to look at the scene myself.

June 13 is the day I drive my car the fastest.

 

 

**AFTER THE EXPLOSION II**

“Not really,” I say, my grip on the wheel tight. My eyes are burning. “Not really, I didn't know him.”

Sousuke sighs softly as my face begins fucking dripping, and I lean my head against the wheel, muttering _not really, not really_ repeatedly.

“Is he – did you come to Tokyo because of him?”

I don't reply. I don't have to, he knows the answer already.

“You took a turn toward Sharkstone a minute too soon, you know,” he says to me, in the most comforting and calm voice he has used in years. “Makoto and the head medic confirmed it. I don't know now, he sure has it bad with that bar. But he's still alive when they got to him. They were loading the other body when I left.”

It's impossible, a voice taunts from somewhere deep. The rebar couldn't have spared all his organs. Blocks of concrete crushed him. There was a fire. It's illogical that he's alive. Not all people can be saved.

And yet...

“Are you listening? Rin. They're taking him now to the hospital. He survived the explosion. He might stand a chance.”

 

_to be continued_

**Author's Note:**

> SDR's location matches that of GSK in Sendagaya. Rei's paper is based on real-life spectrometry research. NPA, JIII, Nada High, and KU's ICR and ICR-Kaji Lab are also real. I did read up on Japanese law enforcement because it's very important but like the S things mentioned, might've been too um, imaginative and stretchy. Allowances for reality stretches aside, please don't hesitate to point out mistakes!
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Feedback is much appreciated ♥


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